


Is This Peace?

by domini_moonbeam



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Explicit Language, Light Angst, M/M, Mobsters, Partner Swapping, Sex, Violence, sketchy situation, so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26293102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domini_moonbeam/pseuds/domini_moonbeam
Summary: The two couples have never met before. He Tian and Jian Yi are rival mob princes and after some long bloody street wars they're finally making peace but in order to seal the deal they have to swap partners for a night as a show of trust.
Relationships: He Tian & Mo Guanshan (19 Days), He Tian/Zhan Zhengxi (19 Days), Jian Yi/Mo Guanshan (19 Days), Jian Yi/Zhan Zhengxi (19 Days)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 132





	Is This Peace?

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like my mobster ideas for these guys have been brewing forever because of the very gangster art Old Xian does for them sometimes (not unlike how the band fic happened). Hope you enjoy it!

“No,” He Tian said in that infinitely final, almost bored, tone that Mo loved when it was directed at anyone else, but most of all when directed at He Cheng.

Mo snickered, took a long drag and then passed the cigarette off to He Tian where he sat at the table across from his brother, Mo leaning against the back of his chair and keeping an eye on the crowd below the VIP lounge.

“It’s not up for debate. We’re making peace and this is a show of trust. It’s gross, but it’s tradition.” He Cheng shrugged. “Think of it as a bonding exercise and count yourself fortunate you’re dealing with Jian Yi and not his father.”

Mo lost his amusement. This asshole was serious. “Do I get a say?” he snapped.

He Tian held up their shared cigarette, offering it back to him. Mo took it.

He Cheng didn’t look at him—his dark gaze fixed on his brother. “It’s one night.”

Mo took a deep drag and _felt_ He Tian grin in that angry way only he could. “No.”

He Cheng glared. “You’re going to throw away the end of a street war because you don’t want to share your redhead?”

“Yes.”

Mo rolled his eyes, finishing the cigarette. He Tian really would plunge them back into another year of blood feuds and violent skirmishes for territory, even after being the one that put together the damned ceasefire himself. He had spent months tenuously arguing terms between his brother and the old man.

Mo flicked the cigarette butt away, not caring where it landed in the dark club. “One night?” he clarified, forcing his own nerves to stay steady.

He Tian tensed. If the music was lower, he might even hear him growl.

“One night,” He Cheng confirmed, voice so even to make it sound so easy.

Mo slid his hands into his pockets. “Do I have to go into their territory?” He wasn’t sure he’d do that, not even for the promise of peace. It was too likely that he’d go in and never get out. Mo could risk that for He Tian and their safety but he knew it wouldn’t end if he died. It would ruin He Tian and that ruin would cost a lot more lives than any street war.

He Cheng shook his head. “Penthouse at The Fenton. Midnight tonight.”

The Fenton was uptown, comfortably sitting between several of the rival gangs buildings, and had been used for conferences and peace talks for almost a century.

“It has two master bedrooms. Only the four of you will go up.”

Mo nodded tightly and took one hand out his pocket to slide his fingers into the back of He Tian’s hair. He bent over him, kissing his head. “Let’s get out of here.”

He Tian sighed, leaning subtly into his touch. He hadn’t even taken his coat off—that was how much He Tian hadn’t wanted to be here, having this conversation. But he lingered a few seconds longer, glaring at his brother. “You ever trade Qui?” he asked boldly.

He Cheng glared back. Mo didn’t expect him to answer—definitely didn’t expect him to answer honestly. “Yes. Once.”

“How did that turn out?”

“Made me sick to my stomach but it bought six years of peace when you were younger.”

“Worth it?”

He Cheng didn’t flinch—he never did. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

* * *

Jian Yi paced.

Zhengxi said nothing about it because he knew Yi would stop the second they heard the elevator outside the penthouse door.

“You’re sure we can’t just kill them?” Jian Yi asked lowly, clawing pale hair back from his face. He’d already taken off his gloves and jacket and they had been disarmed before coming upstairs.

Zhengxi didn’t bother answering him. Obviously they couldn’t. They’d already pitched that idea to the old man but Jian Yi’s father was pleased that for once his son’s preferences in partners was working in his favor. “Do you think your mom ever—” Xi started, trying to remember the last stretch of peace.

“Stop!” Jian Yi groaned.

“If she did though…That would mean your old man—”

Jian Yi stopped pacing, looking up at him. “No way.”

Zhengxi shrugged.

Jian Yi’s face scrunched the more he tried to give it thought before he finally shuddered. “Now I feel bad for them.” After another long pause he added. “I don’t like this.”

“I’d be pissed if you did. At least you get the redhead.”

Jian Yi frowned, almost sulking. Jian Yi was incredibly good at sulking—to a degree that no self-respecting mobster would usually indulge. “I once saw the redhead bite a man’s finger off and spit it at him.”

Zhengxi held back a laugh. “Don’t let him put anything in his mouth then…”

Jian Yi turned toward him, those wheat eyes a flurry of anger and unease that had nothing to do with the redhead now. “All that shit they say about He Tian is probably just rumors. Just crap they make up to scare people.”

It wasn’t like Jian Yi to downplay a situation—it actually went against his nature—but he was trying for Xi. _All that shit they say_ , was about what a sadist He Tian was. People spread stories about how he won the redhead off someone at a poker game and then drove him into the crazy, violent asshole everyone in the city now knew by sight. But Xi had also heard one of those rumors claiming He Tian had cut the redhead’s tongue out, another saying he bit it out—but he’d heard the redhead shouting at people plenty of times to know that wasn’t true.

Jian Yi grabbed the side of his neck, pulling him in closer. Had he lost focus? Yi stared hard at him when he spoke again, voice low. “If it’s not rumors, if he hurts you—you kill him, Xixi. Fuck peace. If you kill him, I’ll say I did it and we’ll go from there.”

Zhengxi stared back at him and wondered why he was surprised that he meant it. They had been friends since they were kids and more before he’d even realized it. It had always been the two of them against everything else and when they realized there was no escaping Jian Yi’s dad, they had gone together into this life too.

Jian Yi’s dad wouldn’t just shrug off such a violent act of war—a complete slap in his face as he reached for a ceasefire—just because Jian Yi took the blame. No. There was no way out of this.

Zhengxi touched Jian Yi’s side, fingers pressing against shirt as if he could feel skin if he just focused hard enough. He couldn’t kill He Tian even if he was the violent fuck they whispered about on the streets. But, He Tian also couldn’t kill him without all of this going to shit. It would be okay. It had to be okay. He kissed Jian Yi. It was rushed but passionate, ending when they both heard the elevator chime in the hallway outside.

He nudged Jian Yi back a step, thumbed the corner of his mouth to clean his lips of saliva and straightened his shirt. “Seriously, don’t let the redhead put anything in his mouth if he’s looking bitey,” he repeated with only the ghost of a smirk. “And try to have fun.”

Jian Yi smiled but it was an imitation of the gesture. “You wouldn’t be jealous if I did?”

Zhengxi shrugged and stepped back to the side, straightening his own jacket just as the door was being opened. “Just this once. I won’t be.” And he meant it. They’d never been open before—they’d never cheated or fucked anyone else. If Jian Yi could enjoy this, he wouldn’t take that from him. Better that than feeling as dirty and gross as this could get.

He Tian and the redhead walked in, stopping well out of reach and staring back at them. He Tian was scowling—the way he always was as far as Zhengxi knew. In fact, the only time he had ever seen the dark-haired man smiled had been angrily. It had been a terrible expression before a violent fight that almost leveled a club downtown.

But while He Tian was scowling now and his redhead was looking perfectly disinterested—Jian Yi grinned. He had a bit of a mad-prince vibe when he was being his mobster son self. Zhengxi liked it, no that he’d ever give any of that away with his own reactions.

“I almost thought you stood me up,” Jian Yi practically sang, all those apprehensions and frustrations gone. He was talking to He Tian, of course. As far as customs cared, they were the only two people here that really mattered. Their blood was gold.

He Tian ran his gaze over Jian Yi. He acted like he’d done it a thousand times, like tonight was no different, but Zhengxi saw the intensity of it. Was he reevaluating Jian Yi? If he didn’t know what was about to happen, he would have thought He Tian was deciding if he could win a fight. Now, he wondered if he was deciding whether or not his redhead could. Suddenly Zhengxi wasn’t sure about this—about leaving Jian Yi alone with the other man. A part of him had been weirdly relieved in the way things split once it was unavoidable—he would have taken Jian Yi and fled the city before he let He Tian fuck him. Jian Yi topped just as often as he bottomed, but Xi couldn’t imagine things going that way between his blond and that dark prince. It would be a power struggle. It would be bad. Whereas this was some sort of fucked up expression of trust.

“Well, I’m here, so let’s get on with this,” He Tian finally said, and then his gaze cut to Zhengxi. He felt it even before he met it. He hated the tremor that ran up his spine. He fell back on his usual move of giving nothing away. It hadn’t been _a move_ exactly before the gangster life. Xi was just good at not showing what he was feeling. He could do this. Whatever happened, he could do it.

Jian Yi took a step forward, toward He Tian and the redhead. He cocked his head to the side, looking them both over like he wasn’t impressed before turning and starting down one hall toward a bedroom. It was good move. He didn’t look back to make sure the redhead followed and he didn’t spare any glances for Zhengxi. It was cold. It was everything anyone would expect from the son of a mobster.

Zhengxi studied the two. Red looked after Jian Yi and then back to He Tian. Xi first thought he was waiting for He Tian to give him the okay to go but that wasn’t what passed between them. Their gaze had a language, the way Xi knew his and Jian Yi’s did. They exchanged a wealth of feelings in a second, reassurance and confirmation and support. And then Red was the one to nod subtly, either to urge the mob prince on or to reassure him that he was okay with this before turning and disappearing down the hall. Either way, it was not what Zhengxi had expected. It suggested something deeper than he would have guessed.

“Lead the way,” He Tian said when they were alone. His tone was far from inviting but it wasn’t quite as icy as it had been with Jian Yi.

Zhengxi turned, fighting the wince at giving this guy his back. Which was almost hilarious considering he was about to give him a lot more. He walked them down the hall in the opposite direction from the others, each step taking him farther from Jian Yi. He turned on the light when he walked in, stepping to the side as though to give He Tian first judgement of the space. The door closed and locked and Xi closed his eyes, pressing back the last reaching tendrils of his gut instinct to get the fuck out of here, and settling into his own skin, waiting.

* * *

He Tian only barely caught that moment, when Zhengxi pressed his eyes shut for a second too long after the door locked. Other than that, he gave no signs of caring one way or the other. Jian Yi hadn’t even looked at him once since He Tian and Mo walked into the penthouse—not even glancing when he walked away and left him standing there alone.

“How long have you two been together?” He Tian asked.

“Does it matter?” Zhengxi countered.

He Tian smiled a little at the acid in his voice. He shook his head, taking off his jacket and dropping it over the back of a chair, walking a slow circle in the big room to take it in. Why? Was he dragging this out? Maybe. It had been years since he slept with anyone but Mo and he couldn’t get a read on Zhengxi. He could have been ordered to do this. Was that why he and Jian Yi hadn’t looked at one another? Had Jian Yi forced him to do this?

“Your name is Zhengxi, right?” He Tian asked, trying to soften his own voice but it was hard when everything was so off. He had to at least know this guy’s name.

“Yes.”

He Tian huffed a laugh and turned toward him. He was still standing by the door, not like he might flee but like this space belonged to He Tian and he didn’t know where to go. He was standing like a guard—like staff. He Tian walked up to him, surprised to realize how blue those eyes were. “Did you work for his family before he started fucking you?” he asked, trying to be crass to get a reaction.

It didn’t work. Those blues stared back. “No.”

He Tian reached up, fast enough that it might look like he was going to strike him. Zhengxi didn’t flinch, but his eyes hardened. He Tian settled his fingers around the man’s tie and started working it loose. Well, even if he was used to mistreatment, he wasn’t afraid of it. This blond was not easy to see through. He must be murder at the card tables.

He Tian slid the tie off of him. They were standing so close. But the most Zhengxi had given him for reaction was his narrowed eyes. He Tian refused to hesitate, only because he was sure if he did, he would never touch this stranger. He touched his throat, sliding his fingers up his neck until he was gently gripping his jaw. One step forward and he backed Zhengxi up against the wall and pressed up against him. He felt the blonde’s pulse jump under his fingers and the tight tremor in his body. Even if his face wasn’t giving anything away, he was nervous, maybe even afraid.

He Tian leaned down, their mouths close enough to taste each others last drinks. “How do you like it?” he asked. He couldn’t wait for Zhengxi to do it. He Tian had all the power in this fucked up situation. Not unlike most of his fucked-up life. The only one he’d ever met who wasn’t afraid of him for his name had been Mo. He saw the confusion in those blue eyes and felt the blonde’s jaw flex against his hand when he probably decided it was some sort of trick.

He Tian almost laughed when he realized why Zhengxi wouldn’t trust the question. “You’ve heard the rumors? That I get off on bloodshed and pain?” Zhengxi tensed but he didn’t try to push him off. He didn’t move. But the hollow look in his gaze was telling enough. Son of a bitch. “And you still came in here with me? Is that what you’re into?” He didn’t think he was, but there was a sudden panic that Jian Yi might have violent proclivities.

“No,” Zhengxi answered quickly. Was that a shudder in his voice? He dragged a breath and looked away. “Just fucking do whatever you’re going to do, okay?”

He Tian shivered at that complete surrender. It didn’t turn him on, but it was awestriking. He moved his thumb, stroking Zhengxi’s jaw. “This is going to happen. Neither of us had much choice about that. But I’m not going to hurt you.” Those blue eyes stared at him then, seeming to weigh his soul in that moment, deciding if he was a liar or maybe if it mattered. Some darkness in them eased and Zhengxi nodded so slightly that if they weren’t inches apart he wouldn’t have felt or seen it. He Tian kissed him before he could think more on it, before his mind could stray to wondering about Mo, before he could second guess if this was really consent or just acceptance. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to do this.

Zhengxi’s lips parted for his and He Tian took full advantage, drawing him away from the wall and into him, feeding him his tongue and shivering when the stranger sucked at it. He let go of Zhengxi’s jaw to use both hands to push the blonde’s suit jacket off his shoulders, neither breaking the kiss or breaking apart, like they both understood the fragile magic of making this work.

They didn’t belong to each other. They didn’t belong with each other. But even if it hurt, this didn’t have to be a scar.

He Tian made fast work of Zhengxi’s shirt buttons, groaning when the other man slid his hands up under the hem of He Tian’s thin sweater, fingers brushing his stomach before finding his belt and working it open.

He Tian tried not to compare this blond to his redhead. Tried not to compare their lips, the way they kissed, or the taste of their mouths. But it was impossible. Zhengxi was taller than Mo, but still not as tall as He Tian. He tasted like mint instead of cigarettes and juice. He used more tongue and less teeth.

When their kiss broke the room had swelled with their frantic energy. He Tian pulled his sweater off hurriedly and sat on the edge of the bed to take off his boots, never taking his eyes off of Zhengxi.

The blond stared back at him, lips swollen and eyes a little hazy. Good. If he couldn’t get this guy into this, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it. Or maybe he just really didn’t want to find out if he was the kind of man who could. He had done a lot of horrible things in his life but this was a line he’d never even pressed up against. He and Mo could get rough. It could look awful to an outsider. But everything had always been both of them, always wanted, always good, always them.

He pushed the thought aside. It was brushing too close to how this wasn’t right.

Zhengxi was still holding his gaze when he slid his dress shirt off and dropped it with his jacket on the floor. He was still so quiet but at least he was in motion now.

He Tian reached one arm out for him and exhaled relief when he came forward, not fighting the gravity of this. He Tian curled his fingers into the front of Zhengxi’s slacks, pulling him until he was standing between He Tian’s thighs. He worked his pants open while running his gaze up his chest. A handful of scars but one caught He Tian’s attention. With Zhengxi’s pants open, black briefs beneath matching perfectly, He Tian moved one hand, sliding it up the other man’s naked side. He drew him closer, until he was on his knees on the bed, straddling He Tian but still not sitting in his lap.

His hand stopped when his fingers were wrapped around the blonde’s ribs, thumbing an old scar from a bullet not so far off from Xi’s heart. “Close call,” He Tian murmured.

Zhengxi huffed the closest thing to a laugh He Tian had heard from him yet—the sound such a surprise that it dragged his gaze up just in time to catch the flicker of a grin at the corner of that kiss swollen mouth.

“First time Jian Yi’s old man caught us together,” he explained, proud of the memory and the scar.

He Tian was surprised he’d shared the information at all, though it wasn’t like he could use it against Jian Yi if he wanted to. Everyone knew his old man hadn’t liked his son having such a public relationship with another man. Obviously, though, he had given up trying to kill Zhengxi.

“How long have you two been…you two?” He Tian asked, regretting it the moment he did because it was just reminding that they did not belong together on this bed.

Zhengxi seemed to feel that too, his body tensing in He Tian’s grip but not pulling away. “Since we were kids.”

He Tian looked up, studying those deep blues when something horrible struck him. A part of his brain screamed at him not to even ask but the words were already escaping him. “Have you ever slept with anyone else? Anyone but Jian Yi?”

Zhengxi stared back at him, teeth snagging at his bottom lip. He didn’t answer and that was the answer.

He Tian stroked his thumb across that bullet scar again, fighting the urge to let go of him completely. If he did now, this might all go to shit. “If there was a way to fake this, I would,” he promised but it felt thin, pointless.

Zhengxi swallowed and He Tian looked up again, expecting to see the nerves and fear he felt radiating through this man’s skin, but his expression hid everything so well. “Why can’t we fake it?” he asked, voice brittle—hard by design but so fragile.

He Tian stared, first overwhelmed by wanting to get this man he barely knew as far from this bullshit as possible, and then horrified to realize he didn’t know. He Tian reached up and grabbed his jaw again, turning his head slowly to the right. “It’s a livestream,” he said, and saw the moment the blond spotted the camera. He saw the flicker of horror and then that jaw jerked from his hand turn away from the camera. “It’s bad quality, grainy shit. There’s no sound and it’s not being recorded,” he tried to assure. Why the fuck wouldn’t anyone tell him? He Cheng had explained it to them.

“Fuck,” Zhengxi exhaled low, cringing for the first time He Tian had seen.

“Jian Yi didn’t tell you?”

“He doesn’t know,” he said, voice gutted. When he opened his eyes it was with an inhale and a nod, like he’d rebooted himself or realigned the world. He slid off the bed, standing, leaving He Tian’s touch.

Fuck. How did this work if he backed out now? Could they call it peace and be done anyway? It wasn’t like He Tian had kicked him out or—

Zhengxi dragged his fingers through his hair, pushing it back and for a moment looking breathtaking, stretched out and shirtless with his open pants barely hanging on his hips. And then he looked at He Tian, something dark in his eyes. He held his gaze when he sank down to his knees at the foot of the bed, between He Tian’s thighs. The image of it, of this guy he knew was deadly and far from his ally, lowering himself like that sent a jolt down his spine. His hands slid up his legs, from his knees to his waist. His pants were already open from Zhengxi’s earlier efforts, his fingers hooking in to tug. He Tian caught his hand, pulling it away.

Zhengxi glared at him, the amount of emotion suddenly in those eyes startling. “What?” he snapped. There were a dozen questions in that one word. _What do you want if not this? What else? What do I do to get this over with?_

He Tian bared his teeth angrily. This situation wasn’t his making. But the anger was short lived because he knew it was more his fault than this guy.

“I am not your friend,” Zhengxi spit. “I am not even your ally yet.” He stood up and shoved He Tian, hard enough that he was trying to start something, standing over him. “Just fucking do it.”

Do it. Fuck him.

“You know Jian Yi is fucking you redhead right now.”

He Tian growled low.

Zhengxi nodded, those blue eyes vicious in their focus now. “I wonder if he’s got his dick down his throat right now.”

He Tian knew he was trying to piss him off, but he was doing a great job of it.

Zhengxi ran his tongue along his bottom lip, standing so close, staring down at him. “Here you are, being all considerate while your own boyfriend is probably stripped down and face down on the fucking floor with a cock in his ass. Do you think he’s crying? Do you think he’s calling out for yo—”

He Tian snapped. He dragged Zhengxi down onto the bed, twisting his arm up behind his back and shoving him face down, his weight on him, pinning him down and straining his shoulder in the socket. “Damn you,” he hissed.

Zhengxi’s breath came faster but he didn’t struggle. His free hand clutched at the covers as if to keep from fighting back. As if he even could now. He was pinned.

He Tian roughly pulled Zhengxi’s pants down his thighs, dragging his boxer briefs with. He wanted him to give up whatever the fuck this attitude was. He wanted him to apologize or just stop and go back to the almost okay they had going minutes ago. But He Tian was too angry to figure out how to make that happen now, other than to scare him out of this. His words were like shards of glass now, lodged in his skin with nightmare reflections of his own fears for Mo.

He bent over him, rubbing his hips down against Zhengxi’s bared ass, dragging open zipper and the bulge behind the fabric of his briefs against his skin and grinning cruelly when Zhengxi’s breath stuttered and his body tensed even more. “Is this how you want to be fucked?” he asked against his ear.

Zhengxi swallowed and He Tian could see how stubborn he was in the flex of his jaw and the way his eye managed to meet his when he said, “Yes.”

“Liar,” He Tian growled. Zhengxi wasn’t a good liar, which would have been interesting because it confirmed everything else he had said earlier as true—if He Tian could think that far right now.

“I almost had you a couple months ago,” Zhengxi tried to goad him again.

“Had me?” He Tian laughed darkly, still rubbing against him, hating the way his own body responded to this position, and the anger, and the way Zhengxi just laid there and let him.

Zhengxi’s arm twitched in his hold, probably against the pain of the position, but he managed to settle again, to just wait it out, even with his breath coming in shallow gasps. “You came out of the Laurent building at three in the morning. The sidewalk mostly empty. I was in a construction site across the park. I had your fucking face in my sight lines, lit up by neon signs. I could have painted the door in your brain matter. I should have,” he hissed.

He Tian woke a little from his anger, not because the idea of being shot by a stranger calmed him at all, but because there was something forced about Zhengxi’s voice. He was trying to sound spiteful. He was trying to sound mean. If he’d been across the park that night, he would have been using a sniper rifle of some kind. He remembered that night. It had been clear and quiet. “Why didn’t you pull the trigger?” he asked, suddenly calmer, still leaning over him, watching the side of his face.

Zhengxi curled his lip. “I should have.”

“But you didn’t.”

Zhengxi went quiet, waiting. When he realized He Tian had stopped moving he swore and started struggling, almost popping his own shoulder out of the socket to try to get He Tian going again. He Tian let go immediately but put his hand flat to Zhengxi’s back, keeping him pinned but not in a way that could hurt. “I remember that night. There was no one there. If you had that shot you would have taken it.”

“I had it.”

If had taken it he wouldn’t be in this room, wouldn’t be under He Tian. “Then why—” he started but stopped, remembering how Mo had come out of the party that night, drunk and beautiful and demanding a piggyback home. “Mo.”

Zhengxi stopped struggling. He Tian touched the blonde’s hair, turning his head more so he could see his face, only realizing then that Zhengxi had even turned his face in the direction away from the watchful eye of the camera in the room. “You didn’t shoot me because of Mo?”

Zhengxi tried not to look back at him, staring hard across the room instead. “I didn’t know his name.”

He Tian’s heart pounded in his throat. “Why did that stop you?” It would have been awful for Mo, drunk and happy and then suddenly standing over He Tian’s body—with no one to even take it out on. But none of that should have mattered to Zhengxi.

Zhengxi had stopped talking, mouth pressed tight and eyes fixed on the wall like he was being tortured.

He Tian sighed, the last of his anger gone. He leaned over him, one arm bending and pressing to the bed over his head, shielding him even more from the camera that had so obviously reminded Zhengxi of what this really was. “Why did Mo being there stop you?” he asked again.

“I don’t know,” he confessed.

“Was he in your way?” He Tian pressed.

Zhengxi tensed under him, like he was testing He Tian’s weight and if he could escape. He could. “No.”

“Then why?”

“He was happy. You were happy. It would have been cruel.” He said it so low that He Tian barely caught it and his face was about as close as possible without actually mashing up against his cheek. Zhengxi swallowed hard, frustrated and uncomfortable in an impossible situation. “Fuck. Just…Please. Stop playing with me and just do it.”

He Tian understood then, that dragging this out was its own sort of cruelty and it turned out he owed Zhengxi. “Okay,” he whispered and felt the shuddered exhale and pent up relief leave the other man’s chest. “Close your eyes.” He moved slowly, always keeping at least one hand in contact with Zhengxi, stripping him down and positioning him with a mind not to let the camera get too much of him—not his face or his reactions. He kissed down his back when he slid a hand down his thigh, bending his leg to tuck it up under him. He had his mouth against his skin when he uncapped the little bottle of lube he’d pulled from his pocket, and felt Zhengxi’s body tense in surprise and then relax in some wordless relief. He smiled against his back. This guy really hadn’t thought much of him.

* * *

Everything was a whirlwind. As soon as the door had closed and Jian Yi turned toward it, the redhead was on him. He tensed automatically, so used to fighting with these people that he had a hand around Red’s neck and the other curled into a fist. Neither slowed the other man or stopped him from crashing their mouths together, his own hands twisted in the front of Jian Yi’s shirt. Jian Yi kissed back, fist uncurling but the other keeping hold of the redhead’s neck, steering him blind toward the bed while they devoured each other.

They pulled at clothing between kisses, everything frantic, like they had both known to just jump the fuck in before their brains could catch up—or their hearts.

Jian Yi moaned when Red bit his lip, hard enough to hurt but not enough to bleed. By the time they toppled onto the bed, rutting against one another, they were both down to nothing but their pants. Jian Yi rolled them until the redhead was under him. They were both hard and that was a blessing. As long as Jian Yi could stay ahead of his thoughts—ahead of all the screaming instincts that told him that was not Xixi under him—that his Xixi was alone with He Tian. Under He Tian. That being with Jian Yi was exactly what had led him there. Without him he would have had a normal life. He would have gone to college and probably had a normal, sweet love. He would not be a killer. He would not have that scar on his chest. And Jian Yi would be hollow without him. No. They had decided, both of them, to do this life together. To do everything and anything they had to to stay together.

The redhead palmed him through his slacks and Jian Yi groaned, shoving his thoughts aside again—outrunning them.

“Want me to blow you?” the redhead asked, voice gravelly in a midnight whisper.

Jian Yi grinned, almost laughing, rubbing into that touch. To think, he didn’t even know this guy’s name—everyone on their side just called him Red or the redhead—and those were the first words he’d ever spoken to him. “No offense, beautiful, but I’ve seen what your teeth can do.”

Red smiled, flashing said teeth with more than a little delight.

Jian Yi instantly understood how anyone could be infatuated with this guy. Zhengxi had been right. He had been lucky when he got the redhead.

“I could promise not to bite…”

Jian Yi hummed, kissing down the redhead’s neck. “Can’t really trust you,” he hummed against skin, and then, on impulse, bit him.

Red arched under him, into him, moaning. “Fuck.”

Interesting. He sat up, on his knees between Red’s legs when he unbuttoned the man’s jeans and started stripping them off his legs. He really was beautiful up close, when he wasn’t biting people. Even his eyes had red in them, glazed over in their rush, chest moving in quick breaths. “What’s your name?” Jian Yi asked, little more than a breathy mumble, but it seemed like something he should know.

Red huffed an almost laugh, kicking his pants off the side of the bed. “Mo Guan Shan.”

“Jian Yi,” he returned automatically, his attention mostly on sliding Mo’s boxer briefs off.

The redhead raised an eyebrow and quirked a half smile that screamed, “Yeah, I know, dumbass.”

Jian Yi was too busy enjoying how shamelessly the redhead was sprawled out in front of him, completely fucking naked. He took the time then to run his gaze over him, up close, closer than most would ever get, he supposed. He touched Red’s hip, over a deep scar, and then ran his hand down to his thigh, drinking in all the little marks on that pale skin. It screamed of a rough life, of plenty of street fights. He was about to lean down and take Mo’s cock into his mouth, maybe see what other sounds he could ring out of him, maybe get him off before getting his, but a constellation of scars caught his eye.

Red’s breath caught when Jian Yi bent one of his legs at the knee and spread it to the side, staring at the cigarette burns on his inner thigh.

Time caught up with Jian Yi hard—his brain and his heart slamming back into command of his body and leaving him horrified.

He grabbed Mo by the back of the neck and pulled him forward, sitting him upright. He didn’t miss the hitch of his breath in surprise but he didn’t apologize either. He held him close, like a hug, to run his gaze over his back too. His stomach knotted, fingers brushing a mess of scars on the back of Mo’s shoulder. Anger flared in his chest. Bite marks. Overlapping bitemarks, so deep they left scars. “Son of a bitch,” Jian Yi exhaled.

Mo jerked free of his hold, smacking the hand away from those scars. His expression was confusing, a mess of newly guarded hurt and anger pinching his features. Jian Yi wanted to ask him how that happened—ask him to tell him it wasn’t He Tian—but he couldn’t trust the answer, could he? The only thing he really truly knew about Red was where his loyalties rested.

And weren’t all those rumors along these lines? What if he put his teeth in Zhengxi? “Fuck!” Jian Yi got up, grabbed the redhead by the arm, and hauled him off the bed.

“What the hell?” Mo demanded, trying to jerk his arm free but only a little, not enough to risk actually pissing off a rival mob prince during their fucked up peace treaty shit. There was a rattle in his voice though, unease maybe? And his legs didn’t really move along with Jian Yi’s momentum smoothly until he realized they were headed for the other room—for He Tian.

The door was locked and Jian Yi almost lost it, his Zhengxi on the other side. He shouldered the door hard enough to splinter the frame. Hotel doors were cheap. It slapped the wall and Jian Yi walked in. He had no idea what he was going to find or how he was going to handle it. But he had to know. He had told Zhengxi not to let it go bad, but he had also known he wouldn’t listen to him if it did—not when it was so important to reach dawn tomorrow in a state of peace.

Jian Yi would burn the whole fucking city down if that asshole had his teeth in Xi.

It took him a long second to absorb the scene. He Tian had jumped to his feet when the door opened, pants still on but unzipped, and Zhengxi sat up totally naked but okay. Okay. He exhaled relief so deep it almost dropped him to his knees. He hadn’t realized how horrified he had been to be the cause of another scar on Xi’s body until that second. He Tian arched an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

It was weird, the way he was standing between Jian Yi and Xi on the bed, like he was going to protect him.

They were all a fucking jumbled mess now.

Jian Yi reached back and hauled Mo forward by the arm. He Tian glared, fingers curling into fists. Jian Yi turned the naked redhead in his arms and tapped the scars. “Are these yours?” he demanded. He had to hear him say they weren’t if he was going to be able to leave this fucking room.

He Tian softened, shoulders dropping. “No. You thought…” His right hand moved a little, gesturing toward Zhengxi. He nodded slowly, understanding. “No.”

Jian Yi caught Zhengxi’s gaze. He hadn’t looked at him before they split off to their own rooms because he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to leave him if he did. He shouldn’t have looked now either. Mo twisted around under his arm, still not pulling away but drawn like gravity to look to He Tian. As much as Jian Yi was sure this perverted treaty shit wasn’t really started for any offer of trust by whoever the hell started it—he suddenly realized they really were having to trust each other. And this was more fairly cut than he would ever have imagined.

“Same room?” He Tian suggested, surprising all of them.

Jian Yi forced his gaze off of Xi’s to meet the other man’s.

“There’s nothing about the rules saying we have to be in different rooms…” he went on, gaze cutting toward Mo once and Jian Yi realized the suggestion was as much a request as an offer.

He nodded. “Yes. Fuck yes.”

* * *

Zhengxi shuddered out a breath of relief. Same room was better. He didn’t know why but it was. Before they could all freeze up again, he reached out and caught He Tian’s wrist. It was easy to draw him back onto the bed and over top of him. He had not expected to like He Tian. In fact, he had been more than ready to hate him—to want to kill him. But he had been nothing but patient and considerate in a situation that had to be just as traumatizing for him. He saw the surprise in He Tian’s eyes when he pulled him on top of him, laid out on the bed again. Zhengxi kissed him, slow and deep, nerves on fire when he felt the other two watching them before the bed dipped and they joined.

Zhengxi slid a hand into the back of He Tian’s hair. He was glad he hadn’t shot him. Not just because it would have been a heart breaking scene or because it would have been cruel to the redhead.

There was no more rush or panic. Zhengxi curled his arms over is face when He Tian moved down his body, spreading his thighs and working on stretching his body. He rolled his head to the side and watched Jian Yi blow the redhead right next to him, Mo sitting with his back to the headboard. It was almost an overload, watching that while He Tian fingered him.

It was slow, all of them taking their time and looking at each other as much as they wanted, watching. Zhengxi didn’t tell Jian Yi about the camera. It would have surprised and freaked him out the way it had Xi.

They collectively resisted the impulse to reach out and touch the other couple, to interact in any way other than watching.

“Harder,” Mo had been the first of them to talk in a long while. Jian Yi was fucking him up against the headboard, Mo in his lap with his legs around his waist and his back to the smooth wood surface. Jian Yi groaned, gripping the headboard on either side of the redhead and thrusting harder into him.

He Tian bit back a moan, smothering it into Zhengxi’s neck and rolling his hips forward, pushing into his body until he was straining under him. Zhengxi shuddered. He’d never had anyone but Jian Yi in him before—had never thought he would and certainly couldn’t have imagined it would be like this. He curled his arms around the back of He Tian’s shoulders when he started rocking his hips into him, fucking him deep and slow while they listened to Mo and Jian Yi, both turned on and distracted.

Mo came first and Jian Yi finished not long after and Zhengxi almost lost himself just like that, his own hard cock pressed between He Tian’s body and his own. “Fuck,” he ground out, low. He Tian’s attention honed in on him then, a flicker of worry slowing his hips before he must have registered the frustration humming through Zhengxi’s skin. The fucker grinned, like a wolf.

Zhengxi fisted his hand in the back of He Tian’s hair, dragging his head close and to the side, shivering at the moan it pulled from the other man’s throat. “Stop playing and fuck me.”

He Tian groaned, tongue flicking out against the corner of his mouth. “Whatever you say, boss,” he purred, voice dark and low, vibrating in his chest and through Xi. He kept his hand in his hair because He Tian seemed to like it as much as he did, but when the thrusts picked up he had to let go to grab at his shoulders instead, gasping at swallows of air and nodding because he didn’t want He Tian to get the wrong idea and slow down.

Zhengxi was so far gone by the time he was close that he couldn’t get the words out. Luckily he didn’t need to. The friction and the pressure and the pent up need was enough to tip him over the edge, spilling on both their skin and shivering at how He Tian moaned, hips slamming hard a few more times before he followed.

He was still coming down, still getting his breathing back to something normal when He Tian kissed his temple, the gesture so tender that it started him into opening his eyes. “Any time,” he said, and Zhengxi realized he’d said “thank you” out loud. Fuck.

He Tian rolled off the bed. He took his condom off and tossed it away. Jian Yi slid over to Zhengxi’s side, cleaning the cum off his chest before tossing the towel to He Tian, who caught it like this was routine and cleaned himself up too. Mo was stretched out on the bed on the other side of Jian Yi. “Are we going or are we sleeping?” he asked and strangely, Xi wasn’t sure if he was asking He Tian or the room.

He Tian walked over to the far wall and ripped the little camera off the wall.

“What the fuck is that?” Jian Yi snapped.

He Tian tossed the camera out the door, which no longer latched but could still swing back into place in the frame. “Sleep,” he answered Mo’s question, coming back to the bed and climbing in on his side, opposite Zhengxi. The bed was just the right size for all of them.

He pulled Jian Yi down and the covers up.

“Seriously, was that a camera?” Jian Yi pressed through a yawn.

“Mhm. You’re a porn star now,” Zhengxi muttered.

Mo laughed.

The sky outside the big windows, through the sheer curtains, was turning shades of light blue and lavender. They’d made it to dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [tumblr](https://dominimoonbeam.tumblr.com/)


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